Maybe this Time
by knowhere
Summary: Literati. Change is inescapable. One week. Seven days. A relationship comes together. Timing sequel.
1. Monday

**Maybe this Time…**

Chapter 1: Monday

Author: Knowhere

Rating: Light R

Disclaimer: Nothing.

**AN:** Quasi-follow up to Timing, or more correctly, it uses Timing as a backdrop. This **could** be the continuation…or just read it as its own entity. This is one of the ways it could have happened.

As always...Read? Please review. Thank you.

Summary: _Maybe this time…_Change is inescapable. One week. Seven days. A relationship comes together. Timing sequel.

---  
"They might have talked about the past but there's still so much they don't know about the present…"  
---  
**Monday: 9:46 P.M.**  
---

The phone rings.

"Jess here."

"Hey, it's Rory."

He smiles. He doesn't understand why she still premises their conversation with an introduction of herself. As if he doesn't know her voice by heart. Even if they haven't been chatting these last months, her voice would have been forever etched in his memory. But now, the sound of her is fresh, right up front in his daily thoughts. "Hey."

It all happened gradually. A phone call here. Another one there. Next thing he knew, six months had gone by with eight phone calls passed between the two of them. It was nothing fancy. She kept her promise and had called about two weeks after that night. She had just wanted to shoot the breeze. It was eight in the morning and obvious that she was calling on her commute. She chattered away about her work and asked about his. He was exhausted but polite enough not to mention that he had just fallen asleep two hours ago.

He's a night owl these days. Side effect of writing, he supposed. His muse seemed to visit when the apartment was quiet with Nick at Nite buzzing in the background and a cup of hot tea besides his laptop. With the moon and the streetlight streaming in through his high ceiling windows as his companion, he types endlessly at his computer. His new manuscript is taking form now. It's no longer random paragraphs typed messily on endless Word documents. He thinks he has an idea, but isn't quite sure of what will become of it. He waits. And works. Hoping for the journey to show him the way.

"So, I was thinking about you the other day." Her voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

"Oh yeah?"

She thinks she can practically see his eyebrow cocked and a suggestive remark on the tip of his tongue. After all this time, she can still imagine what he would look like. But is she correct? Is he still slender with a strength that's muted? She closes her eyes and remembers his body. But the picture is old and faded. What must he look like now? Now that he's seasoned with years of maturity? When they talk, she can see a different Jess. A Jess that has let time heal his wounds. A man, no longer a boy, who has now regained his hope in life.

"Rory?" He pulls the phone back to look at it. Were they disconnected?

"Sorry. I'm here."

"You were saying?"

Distracted, she doesn't know where to pick up. "What?"

He smirks, but doesn't push. "Never mind."

She pushes a droplet of water around the table. The ice in her blended coffee is melting. She really doesn't know where this conversation is heading. When she called that first time out of the blue, she had just wanted to talk to him. Just to hear his voice after all those years. But at that moment…she had a direction in their conversation. She called and asked a question. He answered and it was minimally painful. She had appreciated his honesty and thanked him with truthful answers in return. He had a right to know as much as she did. And they both hung up the phone that night and felt a sense of closure on their past.

"What have you been up to lately? Haven't heard from you in a while." He hides any sound of disappointment in his voice.

"I was on assignment for the paper. Just over to Boston for the weekend. Kinda exciting."

He nods. "Yeah."

"And I had this date the other night." Suddenly, her eyes squint and she slaps a hand over her face. In the midst of all their phone calls the idea of other people never came up. It was just an unspoken agreement that their conversations wouldn't veer towards that direction. And she had made a conscious effort not to ask him about his love life.

He stops and lets the moment pass. "Huh." He really doesn't know what to say. There's a tightening feeling in his stomach and he tries to ignore it. But in the back of his mind, he knows that he's started dreaming of her again. It began very gradually, like the phone calls. One night she appeared in the background and he remembers nothing specific. The week after that, it was an offbeat dream about nothing in particular but when he woke up, he remembered every detail. And then the next time…it got more heated and he woke up hard and unsatisfied. He still remembers what it felt like in his mind to touch her and to be touched by her. In his dreams, her body molds to his and the sound of her voice is all he needs to get off. Those are the dreams that plague him now when he hears her over the phone.

She knows she screwed up. "Sorry about that." She whispers.

"S'okay." He swallows.

Backpedaling, she feels like she's going too far but for some reason, she can't stop herself. "It was just a one-time deal. We met through a mutual friend and the other day we just went out for drinks. I mean, it's not a big thing—"

"Rory, stop."

"Right, sorry."

A little irritated, "Stop apologizing."

"Okay."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not in the mood to hear about your boyfriends." He really doesn't care how badly that sounds, he just wants to get that picture of her and another man out of him mind. He isn't so stupid to think that she doesn't see other men, but it ruins his dreams when he thinks about it too much.

"None taken." A beat passes. "I suppose I wouldn't want to hear about the women in your life either."

He chuckles dryly. "Yeah, guess not."

And that does not put her mind to ease. Thoughts of him invade her mind as well. When she lies in bed at night, she imagines his hands covering every inch of her body. And when she hears him over the phone, sometimes she closes her eyes and swears that if she tried hard enough, it sounded just like he was lying next to her and whispering words of love, of heat, of passion instead of just exchanging casual comments with her. "Are you…" She tangles her fingers into the cord of her phone. "Are you…"

"Am I what?"

"Are you seeing someone?" That was not why she called. She doesn't even know why that popped up so suddenly. Perhaps she just couldn't stop herself. "And just answer without reading too much into it, please."

He hangs his head and rubs the back of his neck. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious." But she's not just curious and she knows it. She wonders if he knows it as well.

"No you're not."

She smiles despite everything. Even years haven't dampened his ability to read her like an open book. "I thought you were going to answer without reading too much into it."

He shrugs. "Never said that. You just asked me to not think too much about it. I never agreed."

She looses her nerve. "Never mind. Sorry." Her hand flutters across her face. "Didn't mean to pry."

"You're not."

She's confused. "Okay."

A beat passes and he closes his eyes. "I'll answer, if you tell me why you're asking." He wonders if she's seeing anyone as well. Wonders if she goes home to an empty apartment or if there's a man waiting for her. He wonders if she snuggles into another body or just her sheets. Does she ever think of him when another man is kissing her? Having sex with her? Does she ever picture his face? He's stopped picturing hers years ago when he finally realized that they were over.

"Can't a girl just wonder whether or not her ex-boyfriend is seeing someone?" She says it nonchalantly but it's heavy with tension.

"Don't know."

Now she's just frustrated. "I answered. It's your turn."

"You didn't answer me."

Suddenly quiet, she gives up. What's the point in hiding behind years of untold lies? Surprising him, she musters up the courage she didn't have years ago. "Do you ever think about me, Jess?"

"Of course. Thinking about you now, as we talk." He's not quite as serious as she is, and he's joking with his sarcasm.

"Be serious." Her voice drops an octave.

He stops and leans back in his chair.

"Do you think about me? At night? When you're alone?"

"Do you think about me when you're alone at night?"

She rolls her eyes at his evasion. But she knows that she won't get a straight answer from him until she gives him one of her own. Quietly, softly, she whispers, "Yes."

He sighs in response.

"Yes." She repeats. "Yes." Closing her eyes, she remembers that she just thought about him the other night. "I think about you when I'm lying in bed by myself."

"Just the once?" He probes. This conversation's turning deadly but he really couldn't care less.

"More."

"What do you think about?"

"I think about you. Your voice."

That's not what he expected. "My voice?"

The words come out in a flurry. "I've always imagined that your voice would be deeper in bed, when you're sleepy. In my dreams you'd whisper in my ear. Words that mean nothing but that would mean everything to us. You'd whisper the things you want to do with me. Things that would make me blush in the daytime but when it's night, it's a different story. You'd whisper how you'd keep me safe. And I would whisper back that I believe you."

The conversation's gotten too serious too fast. And he feels like he's drowning hearing words like that come out of her mouth. Even if they're talking on the phone he feels like she's right next to him. "Yes, I think about you."

"Tell me." Her voice is simple, but there's a pleading edge laced in there. She wants to hear it. She wants a confirmation that she's not being an idiot telling him things like that.

"I…" Suddenly shy, he can't find the words.

Sharp and commanding, she demands. "Tell me."

"I think about what you would look like first thing in the morning. Or what you look like after sex. What you would smell like. I think about how differently things would have been if I just had one chance to show you how much I have changed. To be the one who makes you scream into a silent apartment. To be the one who tells you that everything will be okay. Just to feel your body wrapped around mine."

She's on the verge of tears. "Jess…"

"Yes, Rory?" His voice is eerily calm.

"I…"

He nods sadly. "But those are just thoughts. Thoughts that have passed with time."

"They haven't passed for me."

And that alone is entirely too much for him. This isn't something he can handle right now. "Please don't do this to me Rory."

"Do what?"

"Don't tell me things like that and take it back. You've done it before, and now…I just can't handle it."

"But, I'm not…"

"Give me some time to digest all of this." He pulls the phone away and hits the little button.

_Click._

---  
**Monday: 10:33 P.M.**  
---


	2. Tuesday

**Maybe this Time…**

Chapter 2: Tuesday

Author: Knowhere

Rating: Light R

Disclaimer: Nothing.

AN: Just a reminder: This does use Timing as a backdrop and much of that conversation is alluded to in this and following chapters.

As always…Read? Please review.

H: Thanks.

Summary: _Maybe this time…_Change is inescapable. One week. Seven days. A relationship comes together.

---  
"A clean slate never exists and although there are no regrets, it doesn't mean that everything is forgotten…"  
---  
**Tuesday: 11:36 P.M.**  
---

"Do you think we should meet?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know," she gestures, "like see each other in person."

"Dunno."

"We've just been talking over the phone. Do you think we should do it in person?"

He smirks. "Do _it_?"

"I meant, _talk_, you pervert."

He smiles to himself. Yesterday was such an awkward conversation that he had hung up without giving her much of a goodbye. Feeling bad, he woke up this morning and decided to call her. Putting it off until now, his eyes are tired from staring at his computer screen all day trying to write. "Why? You dying to see me?"

"Forget it, you egotistical man." She laughs despite everything.

He closes his eyes and listens to her.

"Jess?"

"Hm?"

"You still there?"

"Appears so."

"Thought I lost you for a second."

"Never." And _that_ shuts him up. What is he thinking saying things like that?

Her eyes dart around and she fiddles with her pillowcase as she leans back on her bed. "Oh."

"Rory?" Her names rolls off his tongue and settles in his brain.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry about last night. For just leaving you hanging like that."

"Yeah, I know. And it's my fault. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No, that's not it."

"No? Then what is it?"

He leans back and tilts his desk chair. "It's just weird talking to you again after all that's happened. You know? I mean, the first phone call, I get it. You had a question, or questions, whatever. You had called to ask why we never worked out. I always wondered when you'd get around to doing so. But now…"

Quietly, "Do you not want me to call anymore?"

"No, that's definitely not it." He says that quickly.

"Then what?"

"It just unhinges me to talk about your life knowing that I'm not in it anymore."

She bites down on her lip hard. "You are. We talk. We're friends."

And that word sounds bitter to his ears—friends. "Yeah, friends."

If only he would say that's not enough for him anymore, she'd be willing to agree. But even with all that's past, she can't muster that much courage to be the first to say it out loud. "Maybe things wouldn't be so awkward if we stopped avoiding topics."

"Like what?"

"Like you getting all evasive when I asked whether or not you're seeing someone. If we talked about things that made us uncomfortable, maybe once they're out in the open, they _won't_ make us uncomfortable anymore." Wrinkling her nose she stops. "Did that make any sense at all?"

He breathes out. "I think it makes more sense than you think."

"Good."

"Yeah."

"So?"

He pauses. "So, what?"

"Are we going to talk about it?"

"You want to talk about our love lives? You sure?"

Definitely uncomfortable, but determined to be okay with it, "Yes."

"Alright." He takes a deep breath. "I was seeing someone. It lasted just under a year. Ended right before you started calling."

She doesn't know what to make of his timeline. It makes her belly turn hearing him refer to his past relationship in reference to their calls. "What happened?"

Bluntly, he responds. "She wanted a commitment. I couldn't give it to her. She gave me an ultimatum and I refused. So that was that."

"Wow."

"Eh, it's not that big of a deal. I think it was just out of convenience that we got together. She worked on the press stuff for my last book. She came with me for the promotion. I was there, she was there…it just happened. Nothing fancy."

She doesn't like how he says everything so casually. Like it didn't mean much to him. "You sound…very okay with it."

He stops. If he's going to survive this conversation with her, his only escape is honesty. "I think knowing she wasn't the one makes it easier to get over. I didn't put much into the relationship and I didn't get much out of it."

His matter-of-fact statement throws her off balance. She doesn't know if she likes hearing this side of him. "You sound different."

"Different how?"

"Dunno. You just sound…not you."

He shakes his head. "This is me, Gilmore."

"No. This is not the Jess I know."

_Maybe that's because I once let you see a different me._ He wants to say it out loud to her. But he doesn't have the balls. "Maybe you don't know me at all."

Offended, she makes a face. "Maybe not."

"It's been a long time since you last saw me."

"People don't change that much."

Chuckling humorlessly, he can't believe she just said that. "Oh no? You seemed pretty different when I saw you at Yale last time. You were different. You changed; sitting there with your designer clothing with that rich preppy on your arm."

"Fuck you."

His eyes widen. "Well, _that_ certainly doesn't sound like you." He's pushing her but he doesn't care.

"You have no right to judge me."

"Ditto. Who's judging whom here?"

Not speaking with him face to face frees up her inhibitions. Combine that with irritation and she gets downright upset. "I don't like this side of you."

"Yeah, well, I didn't like seeing you playing the damsel in distress with Logan either." He scoffs. "Life isn't what you always want or what you _like_. Tell me Rory, what the hell did you see in that guy? Was it the money? Or just the fact that you were sick of being with good guys and decided to go the other way?"

She bites back. "If that were true, if I were sick of being with good guys, I already got that out of my system. Remember us? You weren't exactly the model boyfriend."

"No," he's on the verge of snarling at her remark, "I wasn't the type to simper and follow you around or carry your purse while you browsed around the mall. I was the kind who found your mind sexy instead of just your body. I was the kind of boyfriend who yes, screwed up, but at least I listened when you talked. I wasn't wondering what you looked like naked when you started going off on tangents about the latest novel. Can your other so-called, good boyfriends, say that? Can you honestly tell me that Logan listened to you like I did?"

"It doesn't matter. He didn't hurt me like you did."

Sharply, "That's because you didn't love him."

Mocking him, she gets nasty as well. "And what? You think I loved you? You didn't know the meaning of that word."

"What happened to the 'no regrets, no need to say you're sorry?' Was it all just bullshit?" He takes a breath.

"I might not regret it, but it doesn't mean it didn't hurt." She clicks her tongue. "And you never really did understand what it meant to love someone."

"How would you know? You never gave me the fucking opportunity."

And that shuts her up. He's right. She never gave him the chance to show her. "Show me now."

"_What_?"

"I said, show me now."

"You're kidding right?"

"No."

Armed with sarcasm, he responds. "If you haven't noticed, I'm not your boyfriend anymore."

"What? You're just all talk?" She mocks him and she doesn't do it gently. She's hitting below the belt. "You say you've changed but can't prove it?"

"Are you shitting me, Rory? Six years later, you tell me to show you. Are you honestly asking to get back together out of spite?"

"Who said it's out of spite?" Her voice looses its edge but she's still not entirely calm.

"You tell me to fuck off and two minutes later want to give us another shot?"

"You said yourself that you think about me at night."

Exhausted and confused, his replies come out severe and vulgar. "So what if I have some sex dreams about you? Doesn't mean anything."

"You're telling me that when you think about me at night, you don't wish you had another shot? Just once, to prove me wrong?"

She's braver than he could ever imagine. And her words make him cringe at the thought that perhaps too much time has passed. They've both grown up so much. Maybe they really don't know each other. Voice soft, he mutters. "This is not what I thought it would be."

"I…" She matches his volume and all the fight she had earlier leaves her in a tidal wave. "Maybe it is best if I don't call anymore. I think this is just all too much, I'm sorry—"

Suddenly, "Okay. Let's meet. Tomorrow night."

"What?" She's the one who's caught off guard now.

"Tomorrow. Another shot. Just like you said. One more chance to prove you wrong."

She stutters, "Okay."

"Okay." He pulls up his planner on his computer. "I have a meeting with my editor at seven. Let's shoot for around nine thirty? That good for you?"

She shakes her head at how suddenly the conversation's turned. One minute they're yelling at each other and the next they're checking their schedules to meet up? "Ten's better."

"Alright." He types in "Rory" on his screen and fills in the slot for ten P.M. "There's a coffee place that's open until midnight. It's on West Union Square. Twenty-ninth."

She writes it down on the envelope of a bill. "Okay." Still in disbelief, she makes sure she gets the number right. "Twenty-nine."

"Yeah." His voice is still short. He hasn't forgotten about what just passed between them, but he also won't let tomorrow get away from him. Not this time.

The conversation pauses and she twists her hands into her bedspread. "Jess?" Her voice is very quiet and small.

"Yes?"

"I, um…I don't quite understand what just happened."

He hangs his head. "I don't think I do either."

"I guess…I'll just see you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow then."

"Night."

_Click._

---  
**Tuesday: 11:59 P.M.**  
---


	3. Wednesday

**Maybe this Time…**

Chapter 3: Wednesday

Author: Knowhere

Rating: Pg-13

Disclaimer: Nothing.

AN: Thanks for the responses. It makes all the time and effort worthwhile.

H: As usual…thanks.

And of course…Read? Please review.

Summary: _Maybe this time…_Change is inescapable. One week. Seven days. A relationship comes together.

---  
"They've given each other one more chance, and tonight—they take it…"  
---  
**Wednesday: 9:55 P.M.**  
---

The wind whips around his body and swirls on the sidewalk. It attacks those who are unprepared for the chill and threatens the ones who are only armed with a light overcoat. He flips the collar of his jacket up to protect his face from the biting cold. Sticking out a cautionary arm, he jogs in front of a passing cab and narrowly misses the puddle on the street corner. Spying his destination, he turns his wrist to check the time.

The door closes behind him and he shakes the snow off his jacket. Running a hand across his jawbone, he regrets not taking the extra time to shave this morning. He's been sporting the five o'clock shadow look recently, but now he wishes that he at least made the effort to clean up before seeing her. Nervous, he checks his watch again and sees that the second hand is rapidly approaching the halfway mark. Almost ten. Seeing an empty table by the window, he slides the chair back and plops down.

"What can I get for you?" A pretty girl tucks her blonde hair behind an ear and looks shyly at him.

"Tea, please." He glances up and notices her blush. Flattered, he gives her a charming smile. "Could I get that with milk?"

"Sure." Her eyes dash away and she tucks her pad back into her apron all flustered.

He smirks.

---  
**Wednesday: 9:58 P.M.**  
---

She arrives hesitantly and alternates between unbridled excitement and the urge to just drag her feet. Inexplicably nervous, she continually tucks her wind-tousled hair behind her cold ear. Standing in front of the diner, she peeks through the glass door hoping to catch a glimpse of him before entering. Not seeing him, she suspects that there are tables hidden in the back corner away from her futile view at the door. She enters with a familiar tinkering of a bell that makes her think of Luke's back home. She stands still as she takes in the diner and her eyes stop their journey as they finally land on him.

His eyes catch at the forgotten sight of her and his throat suddenly feels dry. She looks pretty but a little weary with her scarf hanging loosely from her neck. She gives him a small smile and a nod of acknowledgment. Silently walking over to he table, he watches her every move. He starts to stand up halfway to greet her. She stops within a foot of him and bites her lower lip in anticipation. "Hey."

His tongue feels thick and words don't come to his rescue. He half expected her not to show up. The invitation to meet wasn't exactly ideal. He had wrestled over and over again in his mind about their conversation last night. He had woken this morning riddled with anxiety and frustration at allowing himself for loosing his temper like he had. He had debated whether or not to come at all, but at the off chance that she would show up, he decided to sit all night at the diner if he needed just to wait for her.

She sits down and shrugs off her coat. She smiles and it brightens her entire face. "Wow, there you are."

He nods. "Yeah. Long time."

The waitress appears again and sets down his tea and a little metal container of milk. Turning to the new guest, "What can I get for you?"

"Coffee, please." She turns around to glance at the pastry case. "Oh, and a piece of blueberry pie too."

Mixing in the milk into his tea, he reaches over to rip open two packages of sugar. The spoon clinks against the teacup. Taking a sip, he holds the hot cup in his hands and examines her closer. She hasn't changed that much. Hair's longer than he would have imagined, but it's still chestnut brown and he has a feeling that it would still be as soft as he remembers. Other than brown eyeliner, she doesn't look like she's wearing much makeup. Her lips and cheeks are pink from the weather outside but they're not chapped. "How are you?"

"Good." She bobs her head. "Confused." She chuckles nervously. "I really don't know what we're doing here."

"We're having coffee."

"Last night…" The waitress puts down the coffee and the conversation pauses momentarily. "About last night. I guess…" She blows out her breath. "I don't even know what I'm saying."

He understands. "I'm sorry about what happened. Or at least, how it happened."

She receives an easy apology and it surprises her how easy he says it. "I'm sorry too. I didn't mean what I said about you."

He wants to ask what part did she not mean, but he refrains. "No hard feelings?"

"None." She grins.

He nods. "How about we just say what we want to say to each other? And if tonight doesn't work out, we'll just leave it at that and forget any of this happened."

"Okay." She's doesn't think that'll work and that entire idea is just ludicrous.

He senses her doubt. "You know, of all the ways this could have happened, this is probably the last on the list in my mind."

"What do you mean?"

He chuckles. "Well, for starters, I wouldn't have asked to see you again just out of the blue. And certainly wouldn't have _yelled_ it at you."

"Well, I wasn't really nice to you either." She smiles.

"Guess there's no such thing as really starting over."

She shrugs and gives him a playful look. "What would be the fun in that?" She takes a sip and big blue eyes look at him over the rim of her cup. "Besides, if we really started all over, I doubt you'd notice me again."

He cocks his head. "What do you mean?"

"I always wondered what you saw in me. Besides the fact that we both liked to read, that is. I think if we just met on the street or bumped into each other at a bar or something, I'd be the last girl you'd try to hit on."

"Now why would you say that?"

"Look at you." And she is. His olive green hoodie is snug against his body and she can make out the flat planes of his chest. A black t-shirt peeks up where he's zipped down the front of the sweater and he's wearing something around his neck. Whatever it is, she can't see it, but she catches the outline of a silver watch on his left wrist. Her eyes follow the line of his fingers where she can make out their wiry strength. They're a bit calloused and she closes her eyes for the tiniest second thinking about how it would feel to have his hands run across the smooth skin of her body.

Eyebrows lifted, "Look at _you_." He echoes her words.

"I thought you liked me for my _mind_." She remembers their conversation from yesterday and she doesn't resist the opportunity to tease him.

He smirks. "Yes, well…I wasn't blind either." He defiantly keeps constant eye contact. "And I'm certainly not blind now."

"Are you flirting with me?"

He chuckles and drops his gaze.

"I can't get over how much you've changed."

He leans forward and rests his elbows on the table. "I'm still me."

"I suppose so."

"Refill?" The young blonde appears in front of them.

"Sure, thanks." Rory hands her cup over.

The girl keeps her smile on him. "And you?"

"I'm good."

A piece of pie is placed between the two of them and he digs in without asking first. "So…are you seeing someone?"

Her eyes widen. "That was out of left field."

"Nope, not so much. Been on my mind ever since you asked me whether or not I'm seeing someone."

She giggles and scoops a forkful of pie filling. "You were never one for segues. And to answer you, I am currently unattached."

He answers her with a simple, "Good."

She pushes the pie over to him. He takes another bite and smiles at her.

Her thoughts buzz with what she really wants to say and her pride tells her not to admit anything, but her mouth just runs away from her. "Jess?"

"Yeah?"

"I've missed you."

He lifts his eyebrow.

"As long as we're being honest and all." She shrugs one delicate shoulder.

He mutters, "Talk about a lack of segues." He smiles and softly, but honestly, remarks, "Suppose I should say that I've missed you too, then."

The honest reply throws her off but she's not entirely unprepared. They'd both have to be deaf, blind, and utterly stupid to not know that they still have some sort of feelings for one another. No matter how much time has passed between them, they always seem to make it back to this point. She looks down and sees that his hand is barely an inch away. Moving her hand slightly, her forefinger catches his thumb. Still holding onto his fork, he moves to secure their touch. Her eyes follow the movement of his hand intently. The nerves on her fingertips are tingling but there's no swell of a violin like in movies. She chides herself for thinking of stuff like that. His easy smile has dropped from his face and he's fixated on their hands. Her fingers are newly manicured and three of his have smudges of ink across his nails. "You've been writing?"

He follows her line of sight. "Yeah. How can you tell?" He jokes. "I use my laptop mostly, but sometimes I go old school with a pen and a notebook."

Moving her other hand over to his, she strokes the fingers of his right hand. "I always knew you were going to do something great with these hands."

"What? Get ink all over them?"

She snickers. "No." She glides a finger down his pinkie. "I always liked your hands."

He watches her. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. Strong."

Moving his other hand, he runs it over the sensitive skin of her exposed wrist. He watches as her eyes drift shut and he's amazed as he sees her shiver. "Are we really doing this, Rory?"

Eyes still closed, "Yes."

His heart skips a beat. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, we're really doing this."

"What does that mean?"

Her eyes open. "It means that we're going to try again." She's made her decision.

That's all he needs to hear and he nods. "You wanna get out of here?"

A slow smile spreads across her face. "And go where? It's late."

"Dunno." He flags down the waitress. "Check, please." Taking out a couple of bills, he leaves a generous tip. "Come on. Let's walk a little."

She stands and pulls on her coat again. He slips on his leather gloves and buttons his wool overcoat. It's dark gray and the hem falls to brush past his knees. She notices that it seems tailored. How much he must have changed to ditch the leather jacket from years ago.

He looks down. "Warm?"

"Think so."

The bell jingles again as he holds the door open for her. She waits for him to catch up but she doesn't move when he finally does. "What is it?" He asks.

"Nothing."

"Okay…" He's curious.

She looks up at the darkened sky and meets his eyes again. His are eagle sharp and it throws her off balance. "Everything's just so surreal." She tucks her hands into her coat pockets and looks up at him.

Blinking twice, he lifts his hands and cups both her cheeks as he leans down to kiss her. He's caught her by surprise and her lips part in a gentle 'oh.' He licks her lip and kisses harder. Moving closer to her body, he bends his knees to embrace her further. She removes her hands out of her pockets and holds his waist. She whimpers quietly and his coat bunches up in her fists as he leans her backwards to press his body tighter to her. His lips slow and he pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against hers. She feels his breath puff against her.

"Did you just kiss me?"

He smirks. "Yes?"

"Is that a question?"

"Did you just kiss me back?"

"Yes." She slips her arms around his waist. "Did you plan all of this?"

"With you? Things are never planned. Believe me."

She giggles. "So what do we do now?"

"My place?"

She pulls back but not out of their embrace. "Not tonight."

"Okay." He takes no offense.

Coyly, "Maybe some other time though."

"Oh, yeah?" He grins.

"Walk me home?"

"Too cold." He steps away but moves his arm up to her shoulders instead. Spying a cab approaching the corner, he flags it down. "Get in, we'll share."

She ducks down and he slips in next to her. He listens to her give the driver the address to her apartment and doesn't miss the fact that she's pressed her body next to his. Even through multiple layers, he thinks his body is tingling and his heart thumping, and swears that she feels the same.

---  
**Wednesday: 10:32 P.M.**  
---


	4. Thursday

**Maybe this Time…**

Chapter 4: Thursday

Author: Knowhere

Rating: Light R

Disclaimer: Nothing.

AN: Thanks for the lovely comments.

Read? Please review.

H: Thanks for your patience with all those "Either/Or" emails and messages.

Summary: _Maybe this time…_Change is inescapable. One week. Seven days. A relationship comes together.

---  
"Last night they agreed to try. Today is the aftermath of that decision…"  
---  
**Thursday: 7:20 A.M.**  
---

"Hello?"

He shifts his body under the covers. "Hey."

She smiles. His voice is deep and scratchy and she closes her eyes imagining him lounging in bed, calling her first thing in the morning. "You're up early."

"Yeah." He rubs his face. "Way too early."

"Why not sleep in?"

"Wanted to catch you before you left for work."

She grins madly and bites the inside of her cheek. Pausing, she picks up a makeup brush and dabs some foundation on the side of her nose. "That you did."

He smiles and closes his eyes. Concentrating on just the sound of her voice, he turns his head to the side of his pillow. "Been thinking about you."

She stops. "Yeah? What about?"

He idly scratches his abdomen. "Last night."

"That was nice." When they had arrived at her apartment, he got out of the cab and stood at the open door to say goodnight to her. She caught him by surprise by pressing her body into his. The kiss lasted a good two minutes until she pulled back with a grin. He offered her a lopsided smile of his own and watched her until she entered the building safely.

"Yeah." His mind drifts off momentarily into a daydream about the kiss. "You free tonight?"

"Sure."

"Have dinner with me?"

She nods and sees her own happy reflection in the mirror. "Okay."

"Pick you up around eight?"

"Sounds good."

"See you then."

_Click._

---  
**Thursday: 8:04 P.M.**  
---

He rings her apartment, #3B.

"Yes?"

"Hey, it's me."

_Buzz._

Reaching her door, he knocks. She opens with a nervous smile. "Come in."

"Nice place."

She looks around. "It's small, I know. But I love it. It gets a lot of light and it's pretty close to work. Besides, if it were any bigger I don't know how I'd keep it clean."

He swivels around with his hands in the pockets of his pants, examining her apartment. "It's very…you."

She pauses. "You think?"

He shrugs. "Who knows? Maybe it's who I think you are." He says it so offhandedly that it even surprises him.

"And just who do you think I am?" She doesn't dare look up at him. Eyes are glued to her shoes.

He turns but is still about two feet a way from her. "I don't know." He honestly replies. Bending his knees, he hopes to catch her eyes but fails. "Do you know?"

"I'm certainly not the Rory you met when you were a kid."

Nodding, he straightens his spine. "Good." He clicks his tongue. "I always thought you were too uptight back then anyways." He jokes and offers her a wink.

She rolls her eyes. "Shut up." Picking up her purse, she slides the strap over her shoulder. "Where are we going?"

"Dinner."

She rolls her eyes at his predictability. "Yeah, I figured." She flicks off the light and holds the door open for him.

He smiles and walks over to her. Brushing past her, he casually dips down for a quick kiss on her lips. "Hm. Been wanting to do that all day." With a smirk, he keeps walking out the door and doesn't stop until he approaches the elevator. Tapping the down button, he doesn't glance back at her.

She's caught off guard and for a moment, forgets that she was digging in her purse for her keys. Why did he do things like _that_? It unnerved her and made her feel giddy and scared. Locking the door quickly, she catches up to him as he waits for her to step onto the elevator. "What are we eating?"

He turns. "Japanese."

"I didn't know you liked Japanese food."

"I've broadened my horizons."

She laughs. "Next thing you'll be telling me you don't eat meat anymore."

He drops his head and grins.

Shaking her head, she can't believe it. "No, you're not serious are you?"

Sheepish, he explains. "Not really red meat. Not too much chicken either. I eat more fish than anything else."

"Suddenly caring about the animals?"

He chuckles. "No. I ran into some unseen allergic reactions a couple of years ago. And I had to cut meat out of my diet to see what exactly I was allergic to." He shrugs. "I've just kinda left it out of my life now."

"Hm."

The elevator dings and he lets her step out first.

---  
**Thursday: 8:39 P.M.**  
---

"So when he offered me the job, I took it."

He smiles at her across the table.

"And what about you? You seem to have found your niche with writing."

"What else am I going to do?" He fiddles around with the chopsticks. "The first one was really a fluke. Like I said, I met the guys and it just happened. After that…it kinda snowballed. The first book didn't do well. At all." He chuckles dryly. "But the second one was a little better. Got some bookstores to stock it. But writing's just what I know. There's nothing else for me."

She makes a face at his self-deprecation. "Is there something else you want to do?"

His head tilts. "What else is there? I write. It's what I do. I have a GED but no real degree. Took some courses at a local college, but it got in the way of writing, so I stopped."

"Well, you don't need a degree. I mean," she takes a sip of her sake, "Your writing certainly speaks for itself. It's good, Jess."

He smiles. "It is what it is."

That catches her attention. A whisper of words spoken before. A lingering ghost of an expression that haunted her for a time. But she doesn't mention it. "So, you live alone?"

"Yeah. I like it better that way." Taking a bite, his mouth is full but continues to talk. "Roomed with the guys at the publishing house for a couple years back in Philly after Truncheon. That was okay. No privacy but they were pretty low-key. When I moved back here, I didn't want a roommate. Even if that meant I could only afford a smaller apartment."

She moves her legs under the table and it catches his foot. She doesn't move and he leaves his shoe next to hers. She smiles nervously. "I'm a little out of practice." She admits.

"What with?"

Shy, she doesn't meet his eyes. "You know, this stuff." She bumps her calf against his.

He lifts an eyebrow in confusion. "Still don't get it."

Blowing out a breath, she's frustrated with her lack of courage. "This. Dating. Sex."

"You're certainly more outspoken these days, aren't you?"

Bluntly, "Don't like it?"

"Didn't say that. It's just different." Under the table he reaches out to rest his warm palm on her bare knee. Pushing the hem of her dress up just an inch, he strokes the skin.

Her eyes drift shut. "Now that is definitely you hitting on me."

He smirks. "Very observant."

"And you? Are you…well practiced?"

There's a hint of that old Rory right there and it makes him smile hearing her hesitation. "Not as much as you might think."

"And how much do I think?"

Scooting his chair closer to the table, he slips his hand just a little higher up, but he's barely past the kneecap. "You think I do this often. Perhaps, a couple times a week. At least once on the weekends. You think I practice a lot more."

She licks her lips.

He leans forward to whisper. "But I don't."

---  
**Thursday: 11:16 P.M.**  
---

He presses her up against the front door of her apartment. She sighs against his lips and shifts her lower body to match his hips. He's hard and she can distinctly feel him even through the material of his black slacks and she's glad she's chosen a lighter dress. The flimsy fabric lets her feel him up against the length of her body and she grips his waist to hold on. Brazenly, she parts her legs and moves her hips. She feels him bend his knees to make use of her stance and to capture her lips again.

Hot and wet, his tongue and the feeling of him is all she can think about. Tipsy on the alcohol they had with dinner, she feels flushed. Her senses are buzzing and emotions are standing at the surface at full attention. She feels him everywhere. Her lips, neck, breasts, sex…everywhere. He's nipping at her upper lip and she buries her hands into his hair and slips cool fingers down the back of his neck. He has lots of baby hairs by the base of his skull where his haircut tapers off, just like she remembered. But tonight, everything feels new. Synapses are firing like crazy and they both feel like this moment is swallow them whole.

His hands are busy, idly stroking the bare skin of her neck, running up and down the side of her body, and brushing the outside curve of her breasts. His mind is foggy. Hazy. He feels nothing but this moment. Thinks of nothing but her. In the back of his mind he realizes that this is a woman he knows, but her body is entirely foreign to him. Every moan is new and every crevice of her body is uncharted territory to him. He has not touched her like this before and their adolescent caresses never pushed the limits like this. Even if they once thought about sex, they never dreamed of desire like this.

She leans back against the door for support, knowing that they shouldn't be doing this out in the open. But she can't find the words to protest. She can only part her lips hoping to catch her breath. He's kissing her neck and his hands cup her jaw, moving her hair out of the way as he focuses his attention on her. He has too much control and she snaps out of the moment to turn the tables. Pulling his head back up, she suddenly turns their bodies and his back thumps against the door instead. Leaning all of her weight against him, she presses hard and grinds. Delicious weight combined with a highly anticipated release makes him growl.

He feels the heart of her desire pressed up against his own. Swearing softly under his breath, he thinks that he has never felt like this before in his life. He knows what his hunger normally feels like, and it's nothing like this. She's making him delirious with want, like he can't feel his extremities, but at the same time the walls of her hallway seem like they're closing in on them. Nothing he's ever dreamt of even compares to this. His eyes clench and sparks go off behind closed lids as he feels her trace his length through his pants. Hands fumble to touch her, but he grips her hair and shoulders instead. She stops her fingers and goes back to kiss him again. Turning them around once more, she leans against the door while he concentrates on the kiss.

Mouths are hot, oh-so hot, and the kiss is no longer gentle. Teeth clink and tongues stroke against one another. Her hands have un-tucked his shirt from his slacks and she traces a muscle up the path of his stomach. His belly tightens and hands travel down her backside to pull her closer. This moment's as much about release as it is about tension and she can feel her own arousal matching his. She parts her legs just a fraction more and feels him slip a leg between her again, but this time he presses firmly against her. She knows she shouldn't but she can't help but rub against him. He wants to fuck all rationality and take her here and now, but knows they both won't let it get so far.

A simple chime down the hall signals an approaching elevator and they abruptly pull away from each other. He keeps her close by holding onto her elbows and she rests her forehead on his sternum. She giggles.

He sighs and runs a shaking hand through his hair. "Goodnight, Rory." He takes a step.

She looks up with inquisitive eyes but doesn't voice her concern. She nods and understands. One step at a time. This has been enough for tonight. "Goodnight." Watching him saunter down the hallway, she doesn't move as she sees him gently press the down button for the elevator. The slight tremor in his hand doesn't escape her attention and it makes her giddy thinking that she still has that kind of effect on him. He doesn't look back but she knows he's dying to sneak a peek. He quietly steps into the elevator with a quick shuffle of his feet and an awkward, but gentle, shift of his lower body. She smiles broadly and enters her apartment.

---  
**Thursday: 11:29 P.M.**  
---


	5. Friday

**Maybe this Time…**

Chapter 5: Friday

Author: Knowhere

Rating: Light R

Disclaimer: Nothing.

AN: Thank you again for the feedback/comments/support. All is greatly appreciated.

H :D

Read? Please Review. Thanks.

Summary: _Maybe this time…_Change is inescapable. One week. Seven days. A relationship comes together.

---  
"Feelings are rediscovered. Uncharted territories are explored for the very first time…"  
---  
**Friday: 7:27 P.M.**  
---

"It's date night and you bring me to your apartment for takeout and a movie?"

He stops rummaging through his kitchen drawers for a second. "No good? Did you want to go out?" He's genuinely confused.

She leaves him hanging for a moment. A slow grin creeps up. "It's perfect. Thank you." She sits down on his couch and slips off her heels. "It's been a while since I've had a relaxed night with nothing to do but veg."

Bringing the takeout containers over to the coffee table, he offers her a box. "This place is really good. Best Chinese you'll get within ten miles of here." He sits down next to her.

"Smells great."

He nods and digs into his own carton. "How was your day?"

She pauses before answering. There are so many things she remembers about him and their past, but that question is new. She honestly can't really recall when he had ever asked her that just for the sake of conversation, with no expectations of anything in return. He's listening because he actually wants to hear the answer. "Good. Just the same, you know. How about you?"

He shrugs. "Had another meeting with my editor this morning. He chopped what I have so far into pieces. Suppose it comes with the territory. But…" He takes a bite. "I think things are heading in the right direction. At least I have my head out of my ass. A couple of months ago, I was writing absolute shit."

She's enjoying listening to him talk like this.

"I had this idea to format the book. Well, more like, structure it. Thought it'd be good to branch out. But I haven't worked out all the kinks just quite yet. Apparently it doesn't flow as much on paper as it does in my head." He chuckles and catches her staring. He wonders whether or not she's hearing any of the words that are coming out of his mouth.

"I like you like this." Her voice is soft and out of sync with the moment.

The air condenses around them and becomes thick. He swallows and blinks. "I like you like this too."

She smiles. "Like what?"

"Blunt, easy going, self-assured…" He trails off and picks at his food with his chopsticks. "Sexy." He mutters and doesn't dare look at her reaction.

Her head tilts and she bites the inside of her cheek. She thinks he's pretty damn sexy as well. Hair's tousled and messy, clothes are laid-back but tailored to fit his body, and she likes the easy smile on his lips the most. A little crooked, but entirely his own. There's a shy quality to him right now and that sends her right over the bend. In her opinion, he'd been so confident when they talked lately that it unnerved her. But right now…he doesn't know quite what to do and that is more attractive than she could ever explain. Setting down her food on the coffee table, she reaches out to touch his arm. "Sexy?"

He nods but there's a hint of a smirk beneath a day of stubble, and a subtle flash of arrogance in his understanding that she too, finds him sexy.

---  
**Friday: 9:52 P.M.**  
---

The television remains on the menu screen of the movie. It's been over for a while but they haven't notice. Food's gone and left on the table. Containers are empty and bits of sauce have spilled onto the glass surface. Shoes are abandoned on the cold floor. But…

Bodies are warm on the couch. She stretches out on top of him with their lips sealed. His hands are resting on the curve of her lower back. Wandering fingers dip below the waistband of her jeans, feeling the fabric of her underwear, but he doesn't push further than that. Her zipper is digging into him and it makes him uncomfortable. He shifts but she traps him from above. "Your jeans are digging into me."

"Hm." She kisses him but doesn't make the effort to move. Her teeth capture his lower lip and she tugs just a bit.

Still jabbing into him, he moves her weight onto the right side of her body and fumbles to find the top button of her jeans. Sliding the zipper down, her lower body is more exposed, but she no longer stabbing at him. Kissing him harder in response, she moves down to his neck. Plucking the buttons of his shirt absentmindedly, she watches him. His eyes are partly closed and he tucks his chin in to get a better view of her. Propped up on his chest, she unbuttons his shirt carefully and purposefully. "You okay?" His voice is impossibly tender and something in her body surges.

"Yeah." She stills.

"You sure?" His left hand finds its way into her tangled hair.

She's sure and whispers. "Yes."

"Good." He sits up and pulls her into his lap. Leaning forward, he rests his head between the shallow valley of her breasts. "So…you wanna spend the night with me?"

She closes her eyes and lets those words wash over her. How many times did she imagine being with him? Countless. But did she imagine him asking like that? Never. So courteous and direct. "Yes."

His head drops back on the couch with a dull thud. "God, I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"I'm saying it now."

He breathes out and looks up to meet her eyes. "Yeah…you are."

She smiles down at him. "So, how do you wanna do it?"

He bites back an off-color sarcastic remark. "Take things slow?" He wonders whether he asks for her benefit or for his. He feels like he's skin is peeling off his body. Torn apart. Ripped and exposed.

She couldn't have asked for anything else and nods solemnly in response.

---  
**Friday: 10:45 P.M.**  
---

She can't help it. She cries. Turning her head to the side, she wishes she could stop and that he doesn't see her, but she can't. Everything is really happening. He stills and puts his weight on his elbows. Resting his bare chest against hers, he waits. Calloused fingers follow the path of her tears down her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose. But he's not put off. His arousal doesn't even falter. _This_ is who she is and he loves it.

"I'm sorry." She's embarrassed.

He knows it. "Don't be. I'm not."

A misplaced chuckle vibrates her body and he drops his head on hers feeling the contraction of her body around his own. She holds his biceps. "It's just…weird, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

She closes her eyes and wonders out loud. "So this is what it feels like to have you inside me."

Her words alone could be enough to make him find his release. He moves out of her just a fraction and enters again as he feels her hips lift. He gently kisses the tip of her nose. Muscles straining, he whispers, "Yeah…"

"Hm." Undulating her hips in experiment, she can feel him shudder. She realizes that she does, indeed, have some sort of power of his man. This man who seems so strong, who seems like he doesn't need anyone…she knows he needs someone.

This is what he's been missing. All those years. This is what he willing walked out on. But…if he had stayed and experienced it years ago, he would probably never have this moment. This wonderfully painful experience that makes him feel like he's being dissected alive. In the back of his mind he realizes that she's been touched before and that knowledge makes him feel strange. Other men have laid claim to her. Other men before him. But…

Tonight. This. It is about something else entirely. Tonight she's his. There's no one else but them. They are now two different people meeting again. He's not the same. She's not the same. But somehow…somewhere…something still feels similar. Even if he's never been with her like this something makes it all feel right. Unexpected emotion is coursing through his veins. Arousal, he expected. Release, yes. But the overwhelming feeling of need—no. He _needs_ her.

He's not in the moment anymore. She knows it. He's thinking of something else and his expression has changed. "Jess?"

His eyes snap back and focus to hers. He questions silently.

"Where did you just go?"

The fact that she understood makes his breathing hitch. He rolls off of her and onto his side. But he doesn't leave her body. Voice gruff, eyes dark, "Sorry."

She pushes hair off his forehead, her touch as chaste as friends. "S'okay."

Sarcastic, he tries to hide the truth behind his self-effacing humor. "Would it undermine your opinion of me if I told you that right now…this, is scaring the shit out of me?"

Cuddling into his chest, her hands stroke any skin she can find in an effort to calm him. "Maybe taking things slow is still too fast for us."

With her head tucked under his chin, he looks out into the void of the room. "Regret?"

"You?" She looks up and swears she sees his eyes water. "No."

He nods and bends down to kiss her. Gentle lips, no tongue. Sliding out of her, he wants to start again. He crawls down the bed and between her bended knees and runs warm palms over her legs. She sighs and reaches for his hands. Lacing their fingers together, he kisses her shoulder, then her chest, her breasts, her stomach, the dip of her bellybutton, the curve of her hip…lower and lower still…

---**  
Friday: 11:27 P.M.**  
---

She curls into his chest and they both pause for a moment. "We should have done that a long time ago."

He chuckles. "Yeah, that would have gone over well with Lorelai." He speaks softly. "Plus, I don't think you were really ready back when we were together."

She chews on her lip for a moment, hesitating. "I was ready."

Sharp eyes turn to look at her. "Excuse me?" He must have heard her wrong.

"I was ready." She dances idle fingers across the skin of his chest. "I _thought_ I was. I told my mom back then that it was pretty much inevitable with you." She looks away and feels sad. "I really thought you'd be my first."

"Hey." He reaches over and tucks her back into his body. "I'm here now."

She reaches up and smoothes her palm across the curve of his cheek bone. "Yeah, I know."

Lightening up the moment, he cocks up his eyebrow and leers at her. "I'm here…" He kisses her mouth. "And here…" Her neck. "And here…" Her elbow. "Here…" Her breast. "Here…" Her hip. "And here…"

She laughs loudly as his tongue hits a particularly sensitive spot. "Not there…" She chokes out laughter. "It tickles."

He pauses and goes back up to kiss her fully on the lips. "I'm anywhere you want me to be, Baby."

"That's _so_ corny."

Mocking hurt, "I think you just wounded my pride." He shrugs and regains his expression as lust darkens his eyes once more. "Although I don't hear you complaining about my abilities in the bedroom."

She giggles and pushes her hips into his obvious erection. "Nope."

"Exactly…"

---  
**Friday: 11:38 P.M.**  
---

She smiles broadly into his bare shoulder. "Where did you learn how to do _that_?"

He smirks. "That's classified information."

"That was way better than I imagined." At the sight of him cocking his head to the side, she grins coyly. "And I've imagined some pretty good stuff."

He speaks to himself out loud, "Yeah, I definitely like you outspoken."

She giggles and watches him prop himself on his elbow. Settling down into the pillow, she traces the muscles of his chest. Circling his nipples, she hears him suck in a breath.

"Tell me." His request is sudden. "Tell me what you've imagined."

And that is why she knows she's ended up in his arms again. Words. Even if he never talked much when they were younger, he collected words. But now that words are his life…he needs them more. And she's more than happy to give. She's more than glad to share. To tell. He's the only one who ever understood her need for words.

Nuzzling into his throat, she feels him swallow as she begins. "I've imagined that your bed has navy sheets. But I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that they're black instead. I think you're the kind to want space when you sleep. Not a big cuddler. Am I right?"

He drapes an arm beneath her breasts and pulls her closer. "You'll have to wait and see for yourself."

She smiles and continues. "You feel the moment. You don't care if it looks silly; you just do what feels good. Like when you kiss. You kiss like someone who wants to be kissed back. There are no real fancy moves or planned out stuff. You don't make plans. You let the moment take you."

He rests his chin on her shoulder.

"And I always thought that you'd be the silent kind in bed. The occasional groan, but nothing else. You let your body do the talking for you." She stokes his jaw. "You might talk more these days, but listening is what you do best. It's who you are."

He playfully nips at her retreating hand. She giggles. His hands spread out across her bare back, bringing her body into his. Leaning over, he captures soft lips between his own. Lying back down on his pillow, they kiss side by side. As lovers. As _equals_.

She pulls back less than an inch, "Yes…_this_ is who you are."

---  
**Friday: 11:49 P.M.**  
---


	6. Saturday

**Maybe this Time…**

Chapter 6: Saturday

Author: Knowhere

Rating: Light R

Disclaimer: Nothing.

AN: Please review after you read. Thank you.

H: Thanks.

Summary: _Maybe this time…_Change is inescapable. One week. Seven days. A relationship comes together.

---  
"The light of day brings a new perspective…"  
---  
**Saturday: 9:05 A.M.**  
---

The room is silent and sunlight barely peeks through the shuttered windows. He has an arm over her waist, holding gently. Vaguely, she dreams of him. The face isn't clear, but it's his. In her mind, he whispers words that she has waited long to hear from anyone. His voice is certain in her thoughts and she never wants to wake. He snores lightly. Lately, he's been dreaming too much of her. Dreams that consumed his waking thoughts, dreams that haunted him and made him never want to shut his eyes. Today he dreams of nothing but white noise and space. Noise that doesn't reach his ears and space that doesn't crowd. He sleeps.

To say that they've never slept this comfortably would be untrue. But they've never felt so settled. So right. He wakes and knows exactly who's sleeping next to him. There's still a lot to be discovered, but he feels like he knows enough to make a decision. He doesn't do one-night stands, but he's had his share of awkward morning-afters. Mornings where he wished it were another face, the face that's in front of him now. That dream once slipped away from him. He had moved on and pursued another. But here it is again…seeking him out. An inescapable force that has pulled him in once again.

She can feel the weight of his gaze. She knows he's staring at her. But she doesn't dare ruin the moment. Her body stays still, her thoughts frozen in place. If only she could make time stand still. She never wants to forget this moment. Even if down the road, they don't work out again, if they break each other's hearts once more…she can at least hold onto this. The feeling of him watching her and the thought that she alone has the power to tame this man.

He smirks knowing that she's feigning sleep. Though he must admit she's good at it, it's the little things give it away. The muscles in her face twitch as he shifts his weight on the bed, a pink hue rises upon her cheeks as he brushes the skin of her neck with his fingers, and her breathing is no longer rhythmic. It's become erratic every time his forefinger strokes the shell of her ear. Amusement lighting his voice, he speaks softly. "Faker."

Wide eyes suddenly pop open and she smiles like an idiot. "Morning."

"Hello." He smirks.

She leans over to connect their lips, mindful to keep her mouth closed, but somewhere hidden she feels the tingle of mint. She pulls away. "You brushed your teeth."

"That is a customary act when one wakes."

She swats his shoulder. "You've been up longer than I thought."

He supports the side of his face on his open palm. "Woke up a couple hours ago. Went back to sleep." He doesn't mention that he's been watching her for the last half hour, figuring that she suspects anyways. A beat passes. "How do you feel?"

"Now there's a post-coital question if I ever heard one."

He laughs; a real deep rumble laugh. "Well?"

"Good." She runs her hand along his arm, feeling the dark hairs. "You?"

"Pretty good, considering."

"Considering what?"

"Everything." A vague response, but it's entirely him.

She nods, not understanding but also not caring too much. She's in no mood to analyze. Grinning prettily, she whispers. "You look good in the morning."

"Huh." He continues to stare at her for a moment and is pleased to find out that she holds his gaze. He remembered how she always used to be the first to drop her eyes. But now…she's gained a certain amount of confidence and that is something that he finds so utterly sexy. Reaching out, he pushes some hair off her face.

"Can I use your shower?"

"Sure." He runs his hand up and down her arm. "Just use my stuff." Settling into the bed, he watches her comically lean over the side of the bed, hair brushing the carpet below. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for my clothes."

"Why? Aren't you showering?"

Turning back, "Yeah. But I have to put something on."

Eyebrow lifted, "And why is that?"

She makes a face. "'Cause that's what people do."

"Says who?" He shrugs.

"Common decency." She wrinkles her nose. "It's polite."

He rolls onto his back, breaking eye contact, and laughs. "It's not like I didn't just see you naked."

"You didn't _just_ see me."

Snickering, "Fine. Saw you last night. _Just_ felt you naked next to me." His head turns on his pillow. "Why are you suddenly shy?"

She rolls her eyes in exasperation. She'll never win when she tries to combat his sarcasm with her own. Biting her lip, she lies and desperately wishes that he believes it. "I'm not."

Playfully, "Okay then, go take a shower. And I'll stay here and watch you walk to the bathroom." She hesitates and sees him cocking his head to the side in a challenge. He smirks. "Go on. I dare you."

Determined not to blush, she gets up and makes a point to walk slowly into his adjoining bathroom. She won't let him have the victory of seeing her dash away as if she's embarrassed. Almost succeeding, she gets to the doorway when she hears his low throaty whistle. Cheeks flushing, she turns and sees that he's nodding appreciatively with an impish grin on his lips.

---  
**Saturday: 4:18 P.M.**  
---

"Hey Jess?"

"Yeah?" He keeps his eyes on the screen of his laptop. She walks over to his desk and slips her arm around his shoulders. His fingers slow on the screen and the corner of his lips curl up in a smirk. "What's up?" He holds her waist with his right arm and brings her closer to his body.

"Nothing." Tugging her down, she plops down onto his lap in giggles. "How's the writing going?"

"Good." Closing his eyes, he rests his chin on her shoulder. He pushes his face into the curve of her neck, breathing in her scent. He looks up as a question suddenly dawns on him. "What have you been doing these past couple of hours?"

She smiles and bluntly states, "Going through your stuff."

"What?" He chuckles.

"Looking through your books, peeking in your drawers…that kinda stuff."

He raises his eyebrows. "You're not serious?"

"Sure." She shrugs. "Why not?"

"Um, privacy for one matter."

"Nah." She bends down and kisses his nose lightly. "No more secrets."

He tickles her sides gently and jokes. "I've got plenty to hide."

"Like this?" She holds up several sheets of lined white paper.

His face falls slightly. "Tell me you didn't read that."

She's entirely too curious for her own good, but for some reason, she's not embarrassed about it in front of this man. "No, not really. I got as far as 'Dear Rory, I'm sorry I couldn't say this to you face to face, but…' That's where I stopped."

He listens and briefly remarks, "It's just a letter. Something I did a while back to clear my writer's block…and my conscience." He mutters the last part.

"Your conscience?" She flips the pages front to back and glances at the words.

He shrugs. "It's just something I did on a whim to give myself a jumpstart at writing again. At the time, I had started the draft for what will become my second book, and I was at a dead stop for months. For some reason, the end to my roadblock came out as a letter to you." He should be angry with her but he's not. A little annoyed, yes, but mainly because she hadn't asked. He does have a lot of secrets, but none that he would be too uncomfortable in sharing with her.

She's hesitating but continues anyways. "You wrote to me as if you were dead." She looks down at the pages and he does so as well. Caught off guard and concerned, he tightens his hold on her when he sees the onslaught of tears.

"Yes. I did it in case I never got the change to talk to you and fully explain myself. I feel that when you die, you should have done all you can to limit your regrets. I think it's impossible to be completely without a single regret, but I also think that a person can do everything within their ability to at least reduce the number."

"I glad that I'm reading this now."

He nods. "I never really meant for _anyone_ to read the letter."

"But you wrote it." A frown deepens in her features. "And you kept it."

A weary expression forms. "It was a long time ago. It was just something I needed to do at the time. I never seriously thought I'd go the rest of my life without seeing you again. I knew we would meet up again. It was just a matter of when, not if. Though I never really expected all of _this_ between us to happen."

She nods. "Have you been waiting, then? To say these things to me?"

"To a degree, yeah." He rests his forehead on her shoulder. "No regrets, remember?"

"Yeah, no regrets." She runs her hand through his messy hair and smiles. "Or in your case, smaller number of regrets."

"Good." He takes his time and cups her jaw in his warm palm. Slowly and meaningfully, he kisses her with great ease.

---  
**Saturday: 10:46 P.M.**  
---

The pillow is soft beneath her head, softer than hers, and she wonders where he bought it. His bed is smaller than she would have thought. A full, not even a queen, and it forces them to sleep close to each other. Not that she minds, but she's just pleasantly surprised he's not the kind of bachelor to show off with a huge bed. Does that mean he doesn't have a lot of women over? She pushes aside that thought to poke at a later time. One of her legs is between his and she thinks she can feel the hint of an erection beneath his boxers. But she doesn't say anything. "Your apartment is quiet."

"Hm?" He lifts his head and looks at her lying on his shoulder. "What?"

"Your place is really quiet. Hard to get a place that's actually this peaceful in the city."

"It has good insulation. Blocks out a lot of sound." His arm comes around to circle her bare shoulders, creating goosebumps on her skin from the metal of his watch touching her skin.

"Yeah, suppose so." She moves her head and kisses his shoulder. "You don't do much, do you?"

He scrunches his face and grins. "What does that mean?"

She shrugs. "Just…you don't _do_ much."

"That makes it _so_ much clearer."

She giggles. "No, I mean…you write and do your work at home, you don't go out much…we stayed in all day. Just seems like your life is pretty predictable."

"Okay, first," He lifts up her chin with his finger, "We didn't go out today because you are _insatiable_." He smirks. "And second…no, I guess I don't do much. After moving around so much as a kid, always with so many unknowns in life, it's nice to know that I have a place to stay and work to do." He grins almost to himself. "I like being boring." He looks away and mumbles, "Tired of running." And that's his subtle apology of their past and his reassurance that if she wanted to pursue a relationship that he was ready to stick it out this time.

She glances at him under her lashes. She heard him but decides not to bring it up just yet. He said it and that's enough for now. "Never really thought about it that way. Just thought that you'd be living it up in the city."

He smirks. "The nightclub scene isn't really my thing anymore. After the initial shine of going out to bars wears off, you tend to realize that you can save a hell of a lot of money just buying liquor and drinking at home instead of running up a huge bar tab every Friday night. And besides, I've done enough of that to last me a lifetime. But there is a theater in the Village that shows old movies once a month that I go to."

She smiles and slides up to be nose to nose with him. "That sounds like you."

"Wanna come with me next time?"

"Sure."

He's quiet and just lies there, listening to the silence. She's squirming on the bed, finding a comfortable position and the jostling makes him turn his head to her. "You okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Fine. I just can't get comfortable." She flops back down and then turns to fluff the pillow again.

"You move around this much every time you fall asleep?" He reaches out to try to help her.

"I guess." She lies down and shifts the covers around. "Does it bother you?"

"Honestly?" He doesn't wait for an answer. "Yeah." He chuckles.

"Sorry." But she doesn't stop kicking her feet beneath the covers and he suddenly rolls over to hover above her. She yelps in surprise.

Pinning her down with his weight, he smirks. "There are better things to be doing on this bed than just fidgeting, you know?"

She settles down and smiles up at him. "Oh yeah?" Dipping his lower body down, he presses his lips against hers. Her hands come up to hold his waist and her eyes flutter and a grin creeps up to her features. "So, tomorrow's Sunday. Almost the beginning of another week, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Feels different though, doesn't it?"

Pressing her against the bed with his weight, he kisses her. Sweetly and softly. A kiss that lets her know that there are plenty to come. "Yeah, feels different."

---  
**Saturday: 11:09 P.M.**  
---


	7. Sunday

**Maybe This Time…**

Chapter 7: Sunday

Author: Knowhere

Rating: Light R

Disclaimer: Nothing.

AN: Thanks for the support…hope you enjoyed the journey as much as I did writing it. I tried something new in terms of format and I'm quite happy with its end result.

Once again, thank you to Dorkfish for the initial seed idea that resulted in Timing, and Hallon for helping me nurture it into a full story and then into its sequel.

Please Review**  
**

Summary: _Maybe this time…_Change is inescapable. One week. Seven days. A relationship comes together.

---  
"One week's end is the birth of another…"  
---  
**Sunday: 12:01 P.M.**  
---

He slings the duffel bag over his shoulder and reaches for her hand. She smiles and continues to walk beside him. Her head turns to examine his neighborhood in the clear daylight. "So, tell me again why we're doing this."

His grip on the bag slackens and he releases her hand to hold onto the bag. "Huh?" He glances down at her but doesn't linger.

"I mean, why are we leaving your apartment building?" She lazily slips her hands into her pockets.

"Well," he shortens his stride to accommodate her, "I asked what you wanted to do today and you said whatever I normally do on Sundays." His head cocks to the side. "This is what I do."

Pausing, he steps in front of her to shield her from the passing cars and that little movement brings a secret smile to her lips. She likes someone to take care of her, and whether he knows that or not, she still cherishes the fact that he's protecting her. "Yes, I know. But why leave the building?"

"Because the washers are broken and I've worn practically everything I own, so I need clean clothes."

"Hm." They approach the Laundromat and she holds the door open for him. She watches him plop down his bag on a vacant washer and she slips a couple of dollar bills into the machine for change. Sidling quietly up to him, she makes him jump. Sheepishly, "Sorry. Here you go." Shiny quarters glint off the metal of the washing machine and reflects off the blue flecks in her eyes.

He smiles. "You don't need to do that. It's my laundry; you don't need to pay."

She rolls her eyes. "It's just a couple bucks, Jess." Ignoring him, she slips the coins into the slot and pulls it in. The machine rumbles to life and she helps him pull some clothes to separate the darks from the whites. "Hey…" She picks up a piece of clothing. "What's this?"

He flicks his gaze over to her side and deadpans his response. "It's underwear."

Giggling, she doesn't let him get off that easily. "I thought you were a boxers guy."

"It's not like they're tightie whities." He smirks.

"No, but these are the tight short-like boxers kind."

He halfheartedly listens to her and continues to separate his clothes. "Hm."

Bumping his hips with hers, she tries to get his attention. "Jess."

He speaks to her while measuring the detergent and barely gives her his attention. "Rory, do you own different types of underwear?"

Amused, "What?"

"Do you always wear the same kind?"

"Well…I guess not."

"I'm sure you have different kinds to wear with dresses or nice clothes. Certainly, I doubt you wear the same kind of underwear for when you lounge around the house versus when you go out on a date."

She watches him and wrinkles her nose at his indifferent response. "Okay…"

"So why can't men have different kinds of underwear just like women? You know, for when I have to wear a suit instead of just jeans?"

"Oh." She hops up on the adjacent machine and swings her legs. "Guess I always thought guys were just simple creatures."

He chuckles and leans over to kiss her. Going back to his laundry they stay silent for a couple of minutes. He continues to filter through his dirty clothes and she pulls her knees up and picks at her cuticles. He suddenly speaks up nonchalantly. "So, when do I get to see your underwear?"

Caught off guard, she drops her hands and stares at him for a second. Coming up with the only response in mind, she goes for the obvious. "You've seen it."

"I know. Your date night underwear. When do I get to see what you normally wear?" He pours in the laundry detergent. Slamming the lid closed, he props his palms on the surface and turns to give her his full attention. "Well?" At her silence, he raises his eyebrow to tease her. Leaning over to whisper, he comes close to her face. "How many times do I have to sleep with you until I see your regular underwear?" She bites her lip and looks away. He smirks and presses his lips to her flaming cheeks. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Playfully grabbing fists full of his t-shirt, she pulls him between her legs only to push him away the next second. "Alright, alright." Hooking her arms around his torso, she lingers against his mouth as she teases him with a kiss. "Finish your laundry."

---  
**Sunday: 1:44 P.M.**  
---

She laughs in disbelief and takes a sip of her coffee. He smirks and pushes his cup to her. "C'mon and try it." Daintily picking it up, she tentatively tries the liquid and huffs a breath as she finds out it's not as revolting as she thought. He takes it back triumphantly. "See? I knew you'd like it."

"Tea? Never."

He rolls his eyes and takes a bite of his sandwich. "Liar." They're quiet and he tightens his arm around her shoulders. She settles into his body as they continue to people watch the other café patrons from their corner booth.

She turns and sneaks another bite of his muffin. "Hey, I heard about this book fair next week. I saw this flyer for it in this bookstore by my apartment. You wanna go?"

He playfully wrestles the remains of his pastry away from her hands. "Sure."

"Great." She seems genuinely excited by his response and he lifts his eyebrow in a silent question. "Well, it's just that it's been a while since I've had a boyfriend who's as interested in books as I am."

"Oh yeah? Who was the last guy that liked reading?"

Embarrassed, she looks away and sips her coffee while she mumbles. "You."

"Huh." He smirks in triumph upon hearing her confession.

She elbows his stomach. "It's not like I said you had good taste."

"Jeez…we're not going to start up again are we?"

"Well maybe not about your Hemingways, but what about your contemporary choices? You're living in the past, Jess. Wake up and realize all the wonderful literature that's being created in our generation."

He smiles and gets comfortable in his seat as he listens to her passion about books. "You have to understand the past to be able to appreciate what made the classics great, Ror. Some of that shit that's being published these days is not even worthy of being scribbled on a napkin, let alone printed on actual books. Back then writers were writers. Literature was their life and not just some way of making a living by cranking out formulaic books."

She shakes her head but banters with bright eyes and a wide smile. "But notable writers today are taking what made the classics great and making their own work even better by building and layering on their own unique blend. You can't honestly say there's nothing good being produced recently, can you?"

"No, but you can very well argue that those who are building on the classics, like you say, are just ripping off the originals." He smirks.

She licks her lips. "I can't believe you just said that."

"Believe me, writing today has become too much about publicity than the ink on the page."

She leans into his body. "So you're not a sellout?"

"God, how could you even say that to my face?" He grins. "Have you seen the first book? No one read it because I refused to do any publicity. I wanted the words to speak for themselves. But of course these days, no writer can survive long clinging to values like that, so I do the bare minimum with publicity."

She nudges his ribs. "People read them. You phony; you know damn well plenty of people raved about it."

He blushes and looks away at her praise but keeps his arm firmly around her shoulders. "They're okay."

"I still can't believe what you're saying about today's writers. You're one of them, Jess. Are you saying you're crap?"

He chuckles. "Maybe."

"Maybe _not_." She huffs and takes a sip of her coffee.

---  
**Sunday: 2:59 P.M.**  
---

Her back thumps against the newly closed door and the duffel of clean clothes lands in a heap on the floor. He toes off his shoes and she un-tucks his shirt from his jeans. Holding her face between his hands, he smiles and rubs his thumbs gently over the apples of her cheeks. "I like the making up after a fight."

She giggles loudly but wriggles up against the evidence of his arousal. "We were just having a discussion about books not an actual fight."

"Huh." He attaches his lips to the sweet curve of her neck and busy fingers pluck at the buttons of her jeans. "I'll take what I can get." Lifting his arms he quickly pulls his shirt over his head and walks her backwards towards the direction of his bedroom.

"Hey Mister, don't think you can't just criticize my favorite books and just kiss me to make it all better." She smiles broadly and tries her best to look serious as she point an accusing finger at him.

He smirks and brings her forefinger between his lips. "Oh no?"

"No." Stepping out of her jeans she kicks them off to the side of the couch and accidentally bumps into the coffee table. He leans down to kiss her and she moans as she feels his tongue flick against her lower lip. "Well maybe…"

He chuckles. "You're so easy…" Picking her up she wraps her legs around his waist and her laughter is muffled as they fall onto the bed. "Now about that underwear…"

She giggles loudly and hides her face into his pillow. He reaches up and smoothes down some of her hair. It's ridiculously messy and he bites his lip from saying anything about it. He wishes for more moments like these. Lazy times with slow motion movements that eventually turn into feelings like these. Moments where he feels like he's untouchable. Nothing can disturb what they have right now because she's lying in his bed and he's here to enjoy it. He leaves his hand on the curve of her back…that dip is his new favorite part of her body. She has a little dimple right where the lower back meets her bottom, and he's only just noticed it. The skin is impossibly smooth and she's extra sensitive to that area. He discovered that yesterday. He smirks as he remembers her shuddering against him as he traced his tongue down the path of her spine.

Her hand worms out of the covers and cups the side of his face. Snuggling up to his side, she presses her nose against his shoulder and kisses the joint. His finger tilts her head up and he kisses her softly. She smiles. Now, in this moment, he's glad that he opened himself to the opportunity again. Glad that he took the chance and risked getting hurt again. But even if that were to happen, he'd cling to moments like this and do it all over again without a second thought. No looking back.

---  
**Sunday: 10:29 P.M.**  
---

The room is quiet and their bodies are warm beneath the sheets. She revels in the feeling of her torso and the softness of the sheets against her bare skin. Lifting her head off the pillow, she glances down at him. Lying on his back, his face is turned to the side, but the pale light of the street shows the curves of his face. Not wanting to wake him, she just takes the moment to memorize his face instead of touching him. But she already knows what it feels like. She knows the softness of his skin and the hard plane of his jaw. She knows what it feels like to kiss his heavy-lidded eyes and the hidden scar just below the curve of his eyebrow.

Sitting up with her legs crossed, she leans against the headboard and closes her eyes to breathe in the moment. Scooting back down, she faces him and tilts her head as he shifts in his sleep. She watches as he moves over to rest his head halfway on her pillow. His twists his back as he buries his face into the pillow and mumbles something incoherent. Going back to lie down next to him, she bites her lip and situates herself next to his warm body.

His arm moves and wraps around her lower back. She licks her lips. "Remember that first phone call awhile back?" He doesn't answer as he continues to slumber. "Remember how I said that when we first dated I had that wild thought that somewhere down the road we'd end up together? That night I told you that back then I thought you were the one. Well…" She looks down and her eyes follow the slope of his shoulder back to his peaceful face. "I kinda lied to you. You see, I don't think there ever was a time where I doubted you were the one. Even when we weren't together and I hadn't heard from you in years…I always knew in the back of my mind that we'd end up here." She smiles. "Well, I at least _hoped_ that we'd end back here." Her eyes search for a sign that he's heard any part of her speech. But as his breathing continues to be slow and steady without a hitch, she knows that he's still sleeping.

"I'd never say this to you out loud so soon," she pauses. "Well, maybe it's not too soon. We have after all, known each other for years even if we weren't in touch, we've known each other since we were kids." She shakes her head at her own tangent and reclaims her thoughts. "Anyways, I still don't think I have enough courage to say this to you while you're conscious. Not yet. Maybe not until I know for sure you feel the same. But Jess…" She snuggles into his shoulder and whispers. "I love you. And I know it's taken me way too long to say it, or even realize it, but…I do. I love you." She yawns and looks up. "Maybe I will say it first to you this time…you know, repay the favor after that incident where you randomly blurted it out and ran away." She giggles. "But I won't run this time. And if for some reason you get the urge to run again, even though I don't think you will…I'll go with you this time." Yawning again she turns on her side and backs up until she can feel the length of her body pressed up against his. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she mumbles. "Maybe _this_ time…it's for real."

As her breathing evens out, he tightens his arms around her. Opening his eyes, his vision focuses on the woman lying next to him. Nodding ever so slowly, he kisses her shoulder and lies back down to snuggle into her once again. Certain that she's asleep, he allows himself to drift off as well. "Yeah…maybe."

---  
**Sunday: 10:50 P.M.**  
---


End file.
